The battle of dreams
by J J Rowling
Summary: The Doctor, Amy and Rory go head to head with an old foe who is trying to destroy history in revenge for his defeat. But when they try to follow the enemy, they end up stuck in a plot to kill William the conqueror, destroy time and set the world at war...
1. The crack in the TARDIS

Frantically, the Doctor pranced around the TARDIS control room, doing some random thing that only he knew about! Amy was in her prissy bedroom, pampering herself up. Meanwhile, Rory was left to watch the Doctor do his thing while he just lazed around on the couch. After watching him dance and frolic around a bit, Rory decided to ask what was going on.

"There is an alien force," the Doctor jumped up and down in excitement as he spoke. "That is not travelling inside a spaceship right in the middle of the Time vortex!"

Rory heaved himself off the couch so he could see the scanners. Slap bang in the middle was the TARDIS – time and relative dimensions in space – but next to it was a small slither of wriggling smoke.

"Doctor," Rory's voice wavered as he spoke. "That UFO is definitely getting closer!"

For the first time in a while, the Doctor's smile was turned upside down.

"Oh," was all he could say.

Suddenly the TARDIS was sent spiralling into the side of the Vortex. Rory watched helplessly as a scratch was embedded in the side of the time machine. The last time he had seen such a scratch, he had been wiped from existence. Time was ripping itself apart!

"Doctooooooooooooor!" Rory roared as smoke filled into the TARDIS.

"I AM YOUR ENEMY RORY WILLIAMS," the smoke was able to speak. "I MADE THE MINDS OF YOUR FRIENDS KILL YOU. NOW I SHALL BRING HAVOC UPON YOUR PLANET."

The Doctor pulled himself up from the floor behind Rory. With a cry of 'be gone' and a zap of the sonic screwdriver, the smoke did just that. It left.

"What was that?" Rory stared at the spot where the alien had left him a message. The Doctor ignored him.

"We are going to follow that monster till the end of time," the Doctor murmured to himself under his breath. "Or at least until it stops…"

With that they shot straight out into the unknown!


	2. Mr Dream

James Brand shovelled up his pig's dung from their pens. Even his brush was crumbling apart now. Harold Goodwinson had made nothing but trouble for England. People now actually began to care about the death of Edward the confessor. When he was alive, he had brought misfortune to his people but at least he made responsible decisions. It wasn't as if he had promised the throne to two people.

Actually, he had!

But that didn't mean anything. Harold was slowly destroying the economy bit by bit. If it carried on, his people would starve to death. James's fifth pig out of six had died that morning. His life depended on that one pig living long enough to be sold.

"You are starving," when James twisted around on his heels, he saw that a short, plump man in a tuxedo was staring up at him while he did his business – clearing up pig's business!

"We all 're!" James cried. "How can you be so plump while some of us out 'ere are 'ying of starvation."

"Pretty large words for a mere peasant," cackled the man.

In anger and frustration, James lifted his broom as a threat.

"Get out of here! What 'ort of 'upid clothes are you wearing? What 're you? A lord?"

Once more the man laughed with glee. One more move and James was prepared to shove a dung-infested broom right into the man's gaping mouth.

"I suppose you're right!" the man drew a jewel-encrusted knife from his jacket pocket. "Give me a home for a day I might be able to stop your wife from losing a hand…" He trailed off as if to leave James to finish the sentence for him.

"I can make adjust to whatever you want me to do if you just follow me," James led the cruel, small man into his puny excuse of a home. It was a shack to be fair, with hardly any basic comforts.

To be kind, James introduced the man to his wife, Mary, to be kind. The last thing he needed was to wake up with a knife in his throat. His family didn't even have enough money for a basic, wooden coffin!

"Sorry," Mary apologised. "I didn't quite catch your name."

"Mr. Dream," the small man introduced with a cunning grin painted upon his twisted face.


End file.
